


From Soviet Russia, with love

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blatant Flirting, F/M, Romantic Gestures, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>East Germany acts the rather gallant part, Hungary is a shameless flirt, and a boring conference gives way to a romantic getaway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Soviet Russia, with love

The conference wasn't even over when the last annual crop numbers went in one of his ears and sailed past the other, full speed ahead towards the maelstrom of forgetfulness, also known as the vortex of I-don't-give-a-shit.

East Germany grunted and shoved a bunch of folders in his briefcase before slamming it shut, feeling entitled to his temper. He had crammed entire sets of useless data the night before like a dutiful student, but given that Russia hadn't been in attendance to grill them on the topic as though they were KGB suspects, his all-nighter had been in vain.

It had been one of the trip's many low points, East thought as he eyed the others leaving him on his own without so much as a look behind. There had also been the incident with the microphone, which had happened with such unremarkable precision ―it had only fucked up Hungary's intervention and his― that anyone possessing an ounce of common sense would have seen it as the sabotage that it was. It seemed Romania had been in a mischievous mood, the bastard.

Belorussia, Russia's deputy for the day, wouldn't hear anything of it, however, and since East hadn't wanted to find himself suddenly dickless, he hadn't pressed the subject.

 _Never mind_ , Hungary had said, throwing a smile his way that caught him off-guard. His sleep-addled brain might have embellished what was nothing but the tired, lopsided twitch of her lips, but there was no mistake about the pat that followed it. Moreover, he would swear that her fingers had lingered on his arm.

East didn't know what to make of it, though. At the moment, all he wished for was a good night's sleep.

He left the conference room and strode through the lobby, lest everybody decided to head to the hostel without him. There couldn't be many such establishments in town, being a nondescript backwater in the middle of the Soviet Union and all, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He needed his sleep.

At last, he emerged from the building and stepped out into the streets. The world outside was as cold and empty as Russia's pantry, and he was forced to turn up the collar of his coat while looking in every direction with the practiced discretion of an undercover agent. Not that he was lost, of course, nor prone to lose his way like scatterbrained aristocrats did.

"There's no need, thank you."

Her voice reached his ears much before he spotted Hungary kneeling on the sidewalk, her hair mussed and all of her paperwork spread over a thin layer of dirty snow. Beside her there was a moron who kept trying to gather her things in fistfuls, much to her chagrin. It wasn't going to end well.

"Here you are, darling." East breezed in, briefly wondering whether he would share the dimwit's fate for interfering, that is, a blunt object deep-set into his skull.

Incoming bloodshed regardless, Hungary's look was a precious thing to behold. " _Darling_?" she said, a puff of air crystallizing into a _You just signed your death warrant_ for those who could read her as well as he did.

"Allow me," East said undaunted, taking the papers from the prat's hands and straightening the wrinkles. "I take that our nice fellow here must have _places_ to go to, curfews to _abide_ by?"

The would-be Romeo jumped to his feet, scurrying into the night like the rat he was. East cackled for no less than ten seconds ―more than that would have been to push his luck― shuffled Hungary's papers like the most dexterous of croupiers, and pushed the neat pile towards her. A peace offering, should she accept it.

"I know you can take of yourself just fine," he said without meeting her eyes.

" _Indeed_."

"But I want to think that you would do the same for me, if it came to that," East continued blabbing, shrinking from her glare little by little.

She puffed her hair away from her eyes, pushing her things into her satchel. "If you were accosted by a swarm of girls, for instance?"

"Sure, if my virtue seemed about to be compromised."

Wonder of wonders, Hungary chuckled at this and gave him a light punch, her fist snug against the crook of his elbow despite the many layers of clothing he wore.

"I'll have to rip this," she said then, pointing to her broken heel. "Damn thing made me fall. What else can you expect from cheap goods, anyway?"

"You alright?"

Hungary gave him an askance look for a moment, as though she was making her mind about something. "Yes. Yes, I am. Thanks."

"You don't have to rip it," he said, studying her heel. "I could fix it for you if I can get my hands on a hammer and a few nails."

She let out half a gasp, half a laugh. " _Who_ are you?"

"The land of farmers and workers and cobblers born out of necessity. Gotta be resourceful in this economy. Shall we?" East offered her his hand before she froze solid on that sidewalk.

Instead, Hungary held his hand and pressed her smaller palm against his, comparing them both against the dim light of a street lamp. "Slightly rough, even now. You have big fingers, a man's hand."

He snorted. "What else would I have? I'm a man."

"I didn't notice when it happened, that's all. Before I knew it, you were taller than me." Hungary tugged on his sleeve. He pulled her on her feet.

"Want me to give you a piggyback ride? For old times' sake?" East blurted before he had the time to think that he would be touching her ass then, or best-case scenario, her thighs. Well, he could also hold her from behind her knees. Knees were safe and not awkward at all.

She could also say no. Yet, all Hungary said was, "Giddy up."

With her on his back, his upturned collar seemed pretty stupid. The whole of her was warm, her breath against his nape, her arms around his neck as she held his briefcase, her legs straddling his sides.

"Do you know the way to the hostel?" East asked her, trying not to be a creep and think of something else.

"It's―"

"Look, Bulgaria!" a voice cried from the other side of the street. "Isn't that the oddest sled dog you've ever seen? An all-white pooch, if I ever saw one. Its yoke looks a tad on the heavy side, though."

"Fuck you," East spat.

Hungary gave Romania the finger as he and Bulgaria slid past, one waving innocently, the other rolling his eyes.

"Pft," he said, feeling a tickle in his throat. "Aren't we something?"

Hungary snorted, and all of a sudden they were laughing, his belly shaking as much as her ribs did against his spine. Nothing bred camaraderie like teaming up to curse others' names into the mud.

A tear rolled down his eye. He hadn't laughed this hard since a long, long time. "We're supposed to be on good terms, he and I. I don't know why he's being such a fucking pain in the ass."

"It's because of me. Don't mind the little fuck," she said, wiping his cheek with her thumb.

"Do you want us to race them down the street? Because we could, you know?" Together, they could do and conquer anything, and might even be able to fuck up Russia's chances if they put their mind into it.

"No. Fall back, in fact," Hungary said, pressing her nose against his hair. He merely smelled of soap, but if Hungary liked it, by all means, she could go wild.

"Okay," East said, trying very hard not to whistle like a Young Pioneer.

He failed terribly.

"What's that?" she asked.

" _Unsere Heimat_. I often like to remind myself how damn fine I am."

" _Und wir lieben die Heimat, die schöne_ ," she spoke in a singsong voice.

East beamed. "You know it?"

It was then that her fingertips strayed, tiptoeing the length between his neck and his upper arm. "Your shoulders got broad too, _East_."

"Yours too," he blurted. "I mean, not your shoulders. Your―" Your what? What was he going to say? Your hips got wide like an autobahn? Your breasts swelled, dear comrade, lovely and round like the globe of the TV tower in Berlin? Shit, he was going to be _so_ dead.

The weather saved him.

"Ain't that snow!" East shouted louder than it was needed, watching the snowflakes dance in the air.

"Yes," she said, snuggling closer and almost causing him to turn into goo. They remained silent until they reached the hostel, which was already packed with countries trying to secure a room through diplomatic efforts. The result was a cacophony one wouldn't even hear in a sty.

"I'll see what the fuss is all about," he told Hungary, leaving her settled on a bench with their things.

East slammed his fist on the front desk. "What the hell's going on here?" he asked, but the receptionist, an old woman dressed in curlers and a plushy robe, only shrugged and continued reading her newspaper.

"Quiet!" Belorussia roared. By her side, Ukraine made apologetic noises.

"You and you," Belorussia handed Lithuania and Bulgaria a key to their room and scribbled something behind her clipboard.

"Wait," Romania said, which got him paired with Latvia, who cowered to his left.

"I can't even―" said Poland, and hid behind Estonia before it was too late.

East froze in place, trying to see who stood behind him out of the corner of his eye without calling attention to himself. It was too late; Belorussia was already making her way towards him, holding her pen as though she wanted to play darts and he was the board.

"Oh shit."

Ukraine leaned in to point at her sister's clipboard. "East Germany and Hungary," she said, giving both a smile. He hadn't realized Hungary had left her post, but there she was, pressing herself against his side and pushing her satchel and his briefcase into his arms.

Belorussia scribbled down their names, gave Hungary the key and continued on her way.

"That was close," Hungary said, taking a step back.

"How did you even―?"

She winked at him. "I'm quick on my legs."

"Well, if you haven't sprained anything, take my arm," he said, picking up a brochure. "I hear they have bunk beds in here. Do you want top or bottom?"

"Top," she answered, curling her fingers around his elbow. "Always top."

They want looking for their room, but when they got there at last, they realized that only the bottom bunk had a mattress. There _was_ an extra pillow and blanket piled on the top, but it didn't help shit.

Hungary let her satchel drop. "Huh."

"I'll go ask for an extra mattress," East said, throwing his coat and his briefcase on a chair. "You can take a bath, meanwhile."

"Thank you," she said, kicking off her shoes before she padded to the bathroom.

He took her broken shoe in one hand and made his way to the front desk again, but the old woman wouldn't budge.

"No mattress. No other rooms left," she said.

"Do you have a toolbox, at least? A hammer?"

The old woman gave him a weird look and rolled her newspaper, brandishing it as though she would swat him with it any minute.

"For this, babushka! For this!" he told her, showing her Hungary's shoe. It did the trick; she led him to a shed with rusty garden tools and other assorted hardware.

" _Babushka_ , my ass. Knock yourself out," the old woman said and left.

He rolled up his sleeves and set to work, almost knocking off the entire heel at first, but getting it right the second time. Proud of his achievement, he rushed back to their room, where Hungary was drying her hair with a towel.

"There were no mattresses left, but here!" East presented her with her repaired shoe.

"I'm taken aback with your handiness," she said, a smile coming easy to her lips. "I fixed you a bath. You better go in there before it gets cold."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, disappearing behind the bathroom's door at once. He then took off his clothes and folded each piece before leaving them on a stool, whistling again to his heart's content.

East went inside the water, biting his lower lip at how pleasant and warm it felt. He usually took five-minute showers when he wasn't jerking off, but he could stand to do this more often, yes, he could. 

After scrubbing himself, he rested his head against the tub's rim and closed his eyes, just for a moment. However, the moment turned out to be long, because when he opened his eyes he was nose deep into the bath, the water was tepid going on cold, and someone was knocking.

"East? Are you okay?"

"I am!" he said, spitting water.

"You were taking long, even for a session of self-lov―" Hungary said behind the door, then paused midsentence. "You were taking long."

"Yeah, I was dozing off. Hey, thanks, I could've drowned if you hadn't woken me up!"

"Oh no," she said, amused. "I would have had to blow air into your lungs, mouth to mouth."

East couldn't say a thing from the shock. Was she― _Was Hungary coming on to him?_

If anything, it was worth an investigation. He left the tub, dried himself, drained the water, washed the tub, and dressed in record speed, stumbling into the room. She had picked the pillow from the top bunk and was now holding it in her hands.

"You take the bed. I'll settle on the floor," he said in a display of gallantry, not crestfallen at all.

" _Please_ , we're adults," she said, patting the mattress. "Come. I'll spoon you, since the bed is narrow."

East made a strangled sound he quickly disguised as a fit of fake coughing. _Spoon_ , she had said. She would spoon him, which didn't carry any kind of sexual undertones unless she had smuggled toys from the decadent West. It was safer this way, too, since he wouldn't be poking her with the hard-on that the sole idea was giving him.

"As you wish," he tried to say in a cool, collected manner. Instead, he squawked. _Damn!_ They were adults. He had to rise above the situation as though he was back to the Middle Ages, still believing in celibacy with all of his heart and immortal soul.

They lay together, with Hungary wrapping one of her arms around his torso and East taking her hand loosely in his, because, why not? It was warm, and it was peaceful, and then she whispered in his ear, "Do you think they bugged the room?"

"I hope not," he mumbled. "Knowing them, though, I wouldn't be surprised."

"We should keep up appearances," Hungary said very low, then took a deep breath. "I hate you so much, motherfucker!" she yelled, reassuring him that it was but a play on their part by nuzzling his shoulder. It was the nicest, most tender 'motherfucker' he had ever gotten.

"And you're a vicious bitch. I can't _stand_ the sight of you," he said, faking disgust before he dropped a kiss on her hand.

They fell asleep like this, until a loud noise woke them in the middle of the night.

"I'll go take a look," he told her, knight in shining armor personified. Outside the window, the snow had piled in heaps, covering the ground in several inches of white. He also found the source of the noise.

"It's nothing. Go back to sleep," he whispered, sitting on the bed. "It's the shed where I repaired your shoe. The wafer-thin roof gave in under the weight of the snow."

"My, aren't you dependable tonight," Hungary whispered back, her voice pure, undiluted honey. "Come back here?"

East looked back at her, lying on her side on the narrow mattress as she was. "Are you comfortable with me there?" he asked, his tone one of sincere concern until the idea of teasing her became stronger. "With me and my _broad_ shoulders?"

Hungary hit him with a pillow. "It's a cold night. I'll be damned if I let my very own heater slip away." Her eyes were half-lidded, fingertips drawing circles on the empty side of the bed in a coy display. Yet, something about her seemed off. "And you?" she asked at last, the slightest of quivers in her voice, and that's when he saw it. She was unsure. About him or about herself, he didn't know, even though she had been full confidence until now and, he dared to say, mind-blowing sensuality.

"I've never been more comfortable in my life," he said, cuddling up to her.

She cupped his face and kissed him, leaning on top of him so that they didn't topple. East held her, both to steady her and pull her closer to him, but the bed squeaked so horribly that he thought they would end up in the floor anyway.

Hungary broke the kiss with a grunt, breathing hard against the hollow of his neck.

"Fucking bed," he whispered, but he still heaved a contented sigh. Hungary was still in his arms, not trying to disengage as he had imagined she would. Then again, not even in his wildest dreams would he have thought that a dull conference in the middle of nowhere would lead them to share a bed.

"I think I'm tired, after all. Fucking conference," she said, and he agreed. They shifted so that he was spooning her now, no undertones. Hungary placed his hand over her heart and her hand over his. Her heart was enclosed in a quite lovely and round container, so he wore a huge grin until he drifted off to sleep.

Come next morning, she got on her feet before him and answered the wild knocking that had just startled them awake. "It was our mistress," Hungary said, shrugging. "She demands a pack of boys to haul the van from the snow."

East groaned, but seeing her there, with a smile bright enough to make spring come, made him forget about everything. He went to her and pushed her hair behind her shoulder, brushing the outline of her earlobe before dropping a kiss there. She closed her eyes and sighed.

The knocking came again, relentless.

"Fuck," he said, hitting his forehead against the door.

She kissed his cheek. "Go."

Once outside, Belorussia announced that she would withhold breakfast from everyone if they didn't manage to free their means of transportation. He rolled his eyes before ogling Hungary, who was cradling a flask with what he hoped was strong black coffee. Looking at him, she brought a finger to her lips and then lifted it. It was the most understated of blown kisses in history, and East responded in kind with a hand pressed to his chest, full of emotions so awesome that he felt he could haul that fucking van on his own.

Before long, they had secured the ropes over their shoulders, ready to pull at the count of three.

"The joke's on you now," he told Romania.

They had the van up and running in no time. He was the last to get inside, dodging the leg that Poland had left out to trip him and going past a bunch of talking heads in order to reach the end of the vehicle, where Hungary sat. She was looking at him, fingers circling the rim of the cup she held between her hands.

"I saved you a piece of bread, too."

Their hands brushed when she handed him the cup and the bread, but no one jolted. It felt familiar, the kind of subtle, yet meaningful touch that was part of couple's daily routine. East knew that he was going ahead of himself, but he couldn't help it, not when she had placed her shawl over their laps to keep both of them warm.

"And now?" he whispered, even though no one was paying attention to them. "What plans do you have?"

Hungary shrugged. "I'll go back to my dreary life, writing reports and concerning myself with five-year plans," she said, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Hearing her wistful tone, East had to do a double take. He stared at her clothes, drab like his own, the lack of luster in her hair and her paler skin. She was handsome even now, and although he had never found her frail before, nor lonely like he sometimes felt, in that moment she seemed a bit of both. He was overcome with the desire to hold her tight and, at the same time, to bash his head against the window for not seeing it any sooner.

She put her hand over his arm, coquettish again. "Unless―"

The van went over a pothole that almost made him spill all the coffee. Almost. The bread did go flying, but amazing woman that she was, she caught it in midair. "Careful, there."

East smiled, sliding his arm under the shawl so that they could hold hands unnoticed. "For your ears only, Hungary," he said. "Budapest or Berlin?"

She remained silent for what seemed to be a long time. He tried not to fidget and keep calm, focusing on the way her fingers warmed his hand.

"Budapest, because it's closer," Hungary said at last, sliding her hand down his thigh, "and I can't wait."


End file.
